


May We (Always) Meet Again

by GreyWolves



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Ancient Rome, Ancient Times, Angst, F/F, Gladiators, High School, LexaLivesOn, Quote: May We Meet Again (The 100), Reincarnation, Romance, Soulmates, The 90's, the 60's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 12:19:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14044140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWolves/pseuds/GreyWolves
Summary: A Clexa reincarnation story.LexaLivesOn.One-shot. (An old short of mine that I have redone.)Lyrics from "Until Eternity"





	May We (Always) Meet Again

I loved you once, I loved you twice  
I loved you in my previous lives  
I know your voice, I know your eyes  
You haunt me through my dreams at night

 

We all know how these types of stories end. This story is a tragedy - because all of the best romances are - because sometimes love is never enough. It is not enough to stop the world from consuming you, crushing you, ripping you apart, burning the flesh from your bones and taking the life from your eyes. The earth has existed through it all. It waited for life to grow and flourish and then eventually die-off. Humans came and went, and then came again.

 

Amid the rotations of the great Earth, these humans loved. They loved completely. They called it love, and they believed that no matter what else happened on the Earth, love could overcome any obstacle, love could be enough. Love made the most rational minds do the most insane things. Love is powerful and undefinable. Love is dangerous, for it is the absents of reason.

 

They met countless times in the Earth’s history. They would always fight, and they would always sacrifice because no matter the century, there was always a need for selfless ones, a need for those particular types of humans, the honourable, the selfless, the leaders, the warriors. They met many times, and they remembered each other sometimes and didn't remember anything other times. Time never seemed to be moving one-way, in fact, it seemed to go backwards and then forwards and then stop abruptly before going forwards again.

 

Clarke remembered hearing Albert Einstein lecture about time being nonlinear and nodding along because it made sense to her entirely. She would remember fighting with a sword and shield, and she would remember being on a space station and none of it made her feel normal. It was flashes here and there, nothing concrete. Nothing to explain why in every life, she was so sure that green was her favourite colour or why she desired women as well as men, even in times when that was a risky endeavour, in times when that love was forbidden. Clarke remembered being burned alive at the stake for being with a woman. It was a giant blur of pain and heartache, and sometimes it would become clearer, and sometimes she wouldn't remember much of anything at all.

 

When the 1960's came, it brought a new look on life and love. It celebrated love, all kinds of love and held no judgment because it was plainly no one else's fucking business. Love was freed and embraced and enjoyed. Clarke remembered the bright colours and the parties and yes, the LSD. She was happily a hippy who loved people, and she cried out for peace in the grey streets. Clarke wore flowers in her hair, and she marched against the war in Vietnam. Then her best friend's brother was conscripted and killed within a few months. Clarke held the girl in her arms and told her stories from her head, about a group of people living in space. That time, Clarke died from an overdose in 1968. That time, she never met those green eyes.

 

The ancient times were always bloody. Clarke was dragged from the battlefield -- dirty ropes wrapped around her bruised wrists. Tribe verse tribe, in a war over the lands; it was the last struggle before winter came and threatened them all once again. Clarke's people had lost this fight. She was being taken to the enemy, either to be passed around like meat or maybe killed or maybe traded as a slave, she signified their victory, she was their prize. Clarke was thrown to the ground and landed heavily on her knees in front of a group of men and woman. It was a small group, dividing food by a massive fire and Clarke unconsciously leaned closer to the flames, seeking the warmth. The man who had dragged her there leaned down and cut her ropes with a knife before stepping back like he was showing the others his offered gift.

 

The group circled her and nodded and grunted in approval. Clarke clenched her fist and prepared to fight them all until her death, preferring that than being anyone's award for the night. Roughly built tents surrounded her, and she waited for one of the tribesmen to grab her by her hair and drag her towards one. Some of them reached out and let their fingers skim across her back or touch her face. Clarke was ready to fight -- Clarke was ready to take a few of these monsters with her when she died.

 

Then someone was shouting; it sounded like they were yelling orders. The voice was female and demanding, and oddly soothing to Clarke. The group quickly dispersed, and someone dropped to their knees in front of the battered blonde. Clarke flinched, ready to lunge at the fool who dared to come so close without restraining her first. Then that someone cupped her face gently and made her look up. Clarke breathed deeply as she met and stared into those green eyes. Those green eyes she had seen before, many, many times before.

 

Lexa felt her face and knew that she was real. Clarke was absolute, and every dream and thought was truth. Lexa wanted to pull her close and cry out in happiness, but she waited. She waited for Clarke to lean in closer and then slowly bring her hands up to lightly stroke her cheek with the tips of her fingers, she waited for Clarke to slip one hand behind her neck, so she could pull them closer together, and rest her head on the warrior's shoulder. Lexa felt Clarke inhale and press her face hard into her neck and that's when Lexa wrapped her arms around the woman and sighed contently. The had found each other, again.

 

The earth always had its wars. They were brutal and constant, and most of the time they found their way into the muck of it all. Then, sometimes, there was no war, or at least, none like the ones they had known.

 

In 1999 Clarke found herself in her last year of high school, soon to be eighteen and eager to face the new millennium. The nineties were the time for rip jeans and flannelette tops. Kurt Cobain was still being mourned, and Daria was the epitome of Clarke's own high school experiences.

 

Clarke chatted about nothing with her friends as she waited out the front of the school for a girl. It was a routine that emphasised everything awkward about high school. Clarke would wait for her and see her for a mere moment as she walked passed, but she would never be able to make herself speak. Clarke could never get any words out or even make full eye contact.

 

Lexa arrived on the back of her older sisters' motorbike. Clarke stopped listening to her friends as she watched the brunette dismount the bike removed her helmet. The sisters talked seriously about something for a second before Anya said something that made Lexa roll her eyes and walk away. Anya laughed and sped away as Lexa made her way up the stairs. Clarke's heart beat faster and faster with each step that Lexa took. It felt like an electric spark as she watched the girl look up and met her eyes. Lexa smiled, and before she knew what she was doing, Clarke stepped away from her friends towards the beautiful girl she desperately needed to know.

 

"Hey. Hi. Lexa, right? I'm Clarke." Clarke almost mumbled in her eagerness and fear.

 

Lexa looked a little confused, and she eyed the blonde blocking her path suddenly. "How do you know my name?"

 

"It's always the same." Clarke dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. "I've wanted to talk to you for a while now."

 

"You have?" Lexa wasn't sure that the blonde wasn't stoned.

 

"Yeah. I usually skip the high school thing. I've done it too many times. But you're here and…"

 

"Okay." Lexa nodded once, more convinced than ever that the girl before her was not in her right mind.

 

When Lexa takes a step to the right determined to walk past her, Clarke panics and hold up her hands. "No. Wait! I'm not crazy. I swear. We've met before."

 

Lexa narrowed her eyes. "I don't remember you."

 

"I know." Clarke sighs. "And that sucks. But we're…" Fated. Soulmates. Destined. Meant to be. Clarke can't get any of the words out because she knows how it all sounds. The bell rings, and Lexa shakes her head before successfully walking passed. As she does, Lexa clips her with her shoulder and Clarkes hears her mutter the word "freak" under her breath. It hurts but she didn't exactly handle it well, this time. Clarke missed the wars at that moment. It must have been something about the heat of a battle that sparks whatever it was between them. Or maybe, teenage angst just stunted their ineffability.

 

Clarke dropped out of school. It wasn't until the end of the year that she saw Lexa again. It was random as it always was; she spotted Lexa dancing at some Y2K party. It was close to midnight, and everyone was partying like the world was about to end.

 

"Crap," she muttered and down the last of her beer. It was her every intention to sneak out and head home, but she let herself indulge for a small moment, briefly allowing herself think, if the world ended tonight, she would want to be looking into those green eyes one last time. She spent many nights dreaming and many days hoping for those eyes -- those eyes to look at her with the love that they had once. Lexa laughed and dance close to some guy, rubbing up against him as the music blasted. Clarke felt like she wanted to breakdown, her chest hurt and her eyes involuntarily filled with tears. Lexa was supposed to be hers alone. Maybe it would be best if the world just ended.

 

Then Lexa stopped dancing and looked directly at Clarke. The guy put his hands on her hips, and she pulled back, quickly making her way over to the distressed girl standing in the corner. "Hey, Clarke, right?"

 

Clarke nodded and moved to leave, uninterested in going through all of this again.

 

"Wait." Lexa blocked her movement and Clarke raised an eyebrow. "I just wanted you to know that I didn't start those rumours."

 

"Okay," Clarke sighed.

 

"TEN!"

 

"NINE!"

 

The countdown began, and Lexa licked her lips and looked around. No one was watching them. Clarke watched Lexa think something over before turning back. They stared into each other's eyes; Clarke clenched her jaw and waited for some sort of recognition. Lexa stepped closer and rested one hand on Clarke's hip. Clarke wanted to move in, lean in, all of those things, but she waited. It had to be Lexa's move.

 

"THREE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

Lexa raised her other hand to cup Clarke's face, she pulled them together, and she kissed her. Lexa's hand rested on the small of the blondes back before lightly trailing down to her ass. Clarke moaned and gripped the taller girls hips, keeping them close as the kissed depend. Cheers could be heard, and apparently, the world hadn't ended which spurred the party on further. When they finally pulled apart, Clarke looked dazed.

 

Lexa smiled and licked her lips again. "I've been dreaming about that."

 

Clarke remembered the concept of high school while she sat with her father and mother, and she found the idea utterly confusing. Tiberius, Clarke's uncle, slapped her father's shoulder and cheered as the lion beneath them roared and ripped the flesh from another unprepared Mercenary. The Colosseum was newly completed, and the Emperor's favourite pastime was watching the skilled and the armatures alike, face each other, and the lions and wolves that he had accumulated especially.

 

It was hot, and Clarke adjusted her thin red dress once again before signalling the servant to bring her some more wine. First, the thieves and murders and rapist were chucked unceremoniously into the pit with the lions and wolves. Then, the slaves were put against the rising soldiers, who were eager to prove themselves. Finally and grandly, came the Gladiators, men and women who lived and trained for the honour of fighting before their Emperor.

 

Then lion finally fell, slain by a strong man named Magnus. Tiberius clapped enthusiastically, and Magnus hit his fist to his chest. The first Gladiator had put on a very entertain show, and now he could claim a prize. The Emperor offered land and gold and gestured to the rows of beautiful women, ready to ease the muscular warrior. Magnus let his hungry eyes drag over every woman before pointing to one. The Emperor chuckled and gestured for his guards to escort the lady to the Gladiators chambers down below.

 

Clarke swirled the wine in her mug mindlessly as her family continued to enjoy the festivities. Another Gladiator came and defeated several soldiers with a single sword and took land as his prize. The crowd roared when several Gladiators emerged from the depths and prepared to fight each other. It was the final battle, and although the Emperor could offer prizes and gifts and the victors could ask for anything they desired, it was always Tiberius's final judgment. He could still decide that the fight was not entertaining enough and send the Gladiators away empty handed. However, in the last battle, when it became Gladiator against Gladiator, no one, not even the Emperor could refuse the requested prize.

 

The crowd fell silent as Tiberius rose. The three Gladiators below stood in a triangle formation with a variety of weapons scattered across the arena. "Begin!" The Emperor commanded and rather than lunge into a fight with each other. The three warriors carefully assessed one another and slowly circled around, choosing their weapons. Tiberius was practically giddy as he sat back down and watched with rapt attention.

 

"Are you not enjoying yourself?" Abigail brushed a blonde lock out of her daughter's face.

 

"It seems unnecessarily barbaric." Clarke watched one Gladiator stepped towards one of his opponents experimentally.

 

"Do not let your father hear you say that."

 

It looked like two men and one woman fighting down below. They fought honourably, never teaming up against one or attacking when one had their back turned. They were precise and elite. The sound of metal on metal caused the crowd to roar again, and Clarke sighed. It was too familiar for Romans to celebrate destruction and bask in the blood of it all, but if Clarke was honest, she was sick of all the death, the pain, the loss.

 

The crowd jumped up and cheered loudly. Clarke looked up and saw one Gladiator left standing and the sand around her stained red. Tiberius laughed in that sick twisted way that meant he had enjoyed the show. Clarke watched as the woman removed her helmet and stood to face the Emperor. She looked savage, with black kohl painted across her face and deep green eyes that glanced right at her briefly. Clarke suddenly felt uneasy. Her hands shook slightly, and it wasn't from the wine, though just in case, she set the mug down by her feet.

 

"Very entertaining! Well done!" Tiberius bellowed down at the woman. "What will you claim as your prize?"

 

The Gladiator lifted her chin and looked over to Clarke before extending her arm and pointing at the Emperors niece.

 

The Colosseum fell silent.

 

Abigail scoffed. "How dare you!"

 

Jake looked over at his brother who had an amused smirk on his lips.

 

Clarke stared unblinkingly at the warrior who stared right back.

 

"So be it!" Tiberius declared happily.

 

The Gladiator turned and walked out of the arena once her prize had been confirmed, and the crowd began to cheer again since the Emperor seemed pleased by the selection.

 

"Tiberius, you cannot allow this!" Clarke's mother asked frantically.

 

The Emperor shrugged. "It was a good match."

 

Clarke was confused; she heard her father and his brother argue as the guards came to escort her to the Gladiator's chambers. It didn't hit her until she felt the clank of the iron door vibrated through her as is locked. The guards held her by the elbows as they pulled her towards the chambers.

 

Clarke wanted to panic and scream and try to run, but instead, she bit her cheek and told herself to just get it over with. They went under the arena and passed many chambers where many warriors were enjoying themselves; Clarke cringed at the sounds she heard. All too soon, they reach the chamber that held the female Gladiator who had claimed Clarke. The guards pushed open the door and unceremoniously shoved her inside before slamming the door shut and locking it. Clarke stumbled but quickly recovered and frantically looked around. The room was small, with a cot and a wash basin taking up a quarter of the space. There was an unjoining area which she immediately assumed was the privy.

 

There was less air below ground, or at least, that's what it felt like to Clarke at that moment. Quickly though, she reminded herself to be calm and to be compliant, or the Gladiator may be violent with her, regardless of the fact that she was the Emperors niece. Right now, this day and this night, she was a trophy, to be used as the winner wished.

 

A noise startled Clarke as the warrior stepped out of the supposed privy and into the small sleeping area. The woman had washed her face and changes into a loose-fitting linen shirt and pants. The Gladiator was beautiful; Clarke could recognise that, for without her black kohl smeared across her face she appeared less savage and more human, more delicate, even. This put Clarke at ease a little. The woman looked Clarke over and took one step closer. This was it – this was what would dictate the rest of her encounter. So Clarke dared to be forward, and she reached for the laces of her dress and began to untie them.

 

The Gladiator stepped forward again and grabbed her trembling hands. "Stop," she said gently.

 

Clarke flinched and then regretted it, thinking that it would offend the woman. "I apologise. I- What would- What do you wish me…" Clarke trailed off, unable to push her words out correctly.

 

"Breath, Clarke. I will not touch you." The woman let her hands go and stepped back to demonstrate this statement.

 

"Why?" A stupid question, yes, but Clarke was utterly bewildered.

 

The woman smiled softly. "Because you do not want me to touch you."

 

"I don't understand.

 

"My name is Lexa."

 

"Lexa."

 

"Yes."

 

"Why am I here?"

 

"Do you remember me?"

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"No, I suppose not." Lexa gestured to the cot. "You may sleep if you wish. The guards will retrieve you in the morning."

 

"I don't-"

 

"Understand. I know. You will."

 

Lexa slept on the ground by the cot and not once did she touch Clarke, just like she promised. Oddly, Clarke found she was able to sleep that night, and as she did, she had the strangest dreams.

 

I loved you once, I loved you twice  
I loved you in my previous lives  
And when I die, just keep in mind  
I’ll love you in another life

 

Never the end.


End file.
